


A moment for me, for you

by pennyroads



Series: Moments in Life [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Growing Up AU, Unbearable amounts of fluff, it’s basically 4K of them being FOND, there are no serpents and no north/south side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads
Summary: Jughead Jones wasn't like most seven year olds. Some might say he was a little odd. A little strange. A little weird. A bughead through the years AU.





	A moment for me, for you

 

ELEMENTARY SCHOOL  

 

 

Jughead Jones wasn't like most seven year olds. Some might say he was a little odd. A little strange. A little weird.

When he was younger he preferred playing with the ant farm kit he had received for Christmas to running around with the rest of the kids from Sunnyside Trailer Park playing Simon Says or worse - animal charades; he had a strange name, which most kids instantly made fun of and most adults turned their nose at; and he was never, ever seen without a familiar crown shaped beanie firmly attached to his head.

It had been given to him by his mother after a particularly low point in his young life - the birth of his baby sister.

If you asked him now, he would say she was “okay”, maybe a little annoying, but deep down he loved her a whole lot. More than the Batman lunch box his parents had given him for his fifth birthday, and more than his two favorite books of all time (despite the fact that he only owned the two - “I Spy”, a book of riddle pictures, and “The Adventures of Captain Underpants”) both of which had been gifted to him by his next door neighbor Al, a grouchy middle-aged man who enjoyed little in life besides tinkering with his Harley Davidson, but who had a soft spot for the shy little kid who, at four years old, asked baffling questions like “what is a color?”

At the time though, having his family grow by one (or a quarter, given how small the baby was) had seemed like a catastrophe.

That tiny, screaming bundle of pink had arrived unexpectedly, and suddenly everything was different. Everyone was different. Most of all his mother, who had until that point been his best and truest friend, and who now seemed to only have eyes for the soft smelling intruder.

It had been after one of his many jealousy-induced temper tantrums, when he was sat outside their trailer sulking, that his mother had conjured a soft, crocheted beanie in the shape of a crown and presented it to him with all the pomp and circumstance she could muster.

“You are the king of my heart, Jug. No one could ever take your place. Not ever.”

That hat had become not only a wardrobe staple and handy tool to hide his troublesome hair, but also a reminder that he was loved, and important. It symbolized comfort, and safety, and he felt like he could take on the world when he was wearing it. It was his very own superhero cape, an extra bit of protection against the dangers of the world.

And it was therefore why he panicked when a group of boys, third graders no less, circled around him after he had finished taking a drink from the water fountain. One of the taller, beefier ones yanked the hat from his head, possibly instigated by some kind of rudimentary pack mentality bullies are prone to, and encouraged by a not insubstantial height difference.

“I was expecting to see a jug underneath this thing, loser” he said, looking around at his buddies and grinning like he had just come up with the most scathing remark ever uttered by an eight year old. Jughead scoffed. As far as insults went, this one was pathetically predictable.

He was not afraid. He was not. Be he was at a disadvantage and he knew that he could never win this game, not if he engaged, because there was no way he could fight them all at the same time.

“Give it back. Now. ” A blond girl dressed in a pale yellow skirt and matching cardigan pushed past the small crowd that had gathered and stepped up to the kid holding the hat. She leveled him with a stare Jughead could only describe as ‘icy’.

The boy looked down his nose at her and his condescending smirk implied that he obviously considered her to be a non-threat. “What are you going to do about it?” The rest of his friends sniggered at his comeback, uninspired as it were.

“My mother knows you mother, Robbie Wesley. I think I might just let her know that you’ve been skipping an entire block during your Saturday paper route. Does that sound like something they'll want to know?”

His short lived bravado gave way to a red hue that spread across his face and blossomed into a severe blush. Jughead watched him re-evaluate the situation, and then the girl standing in front of him, eyebrow perfectly arched, arms firmly crossed. Whatever conclusion he reached propelled him to throw the hat in Jughead’s general direction.

“Whatever. I didn't even do anything. You’re such a bore Betty Cooper!”

He didn't stick around to watch a self-satisfied smirk grace Betty’s face, or to see Jughead bend down to retrieve his hat, but he did hear it loud and clear when Betty yelled out “And that paper better be on our doorstep next Saturday, Wesley!” He didn't turn around as their peers found a new victim to mock, but his back tensed up and his footsteps became hurried.

Betty Cooper followed his progress until he had disappeared from view, then turned back around, her ponytail grazing her shoulders. She smiled at Jughead, who was placing his hat back where it belonged.

He knew her. Or, at the least he knew of her. She was in his class; the bubbly, vivacious sort of girl for whom everything came easy, be it school, friends, or playing the lead role in last year’s Christmas play. They weren't friends, because Jughead didn't do friends. Not at this school, at least. She was in his class, but she wasn't a part of his world.

He didn't know what to say to her. He was maybe a little mad that she had stepped in to help him. Not because she was a girl -he knew girls were brave and fierce, his friend Toni Topaz was testament to that - but because he could've taken it.

Whatever it is those kids were going to do to him, though certainly unpleasant, would surely have been easier to take and less torturous than his current struggle to put together a coherent sentence for Betty Cooper.

“I... might have told a tiny lie.” She had obviously decided he wasn't going to break the silence, and spoke up in the hushed tone of someone sharing a particularly juicy secret.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, curiosity shaping his features.

“My mother doesn't really know his mother. But he did skip my street last Saturday, so I don't feel too bad.” The smile she offered was meant to be shared, he realized. By him. This tiny bit of juvenile mischief, innocent as it were, she wanted them to both be in on it. He felt his mouth pull up at the side and watched her eyes trace the movement approvingly.

“I won't tell.” He tried to convey a lot with those three words. He hoped gratitude, at the very least, shone through.

Jug didn't know when exactly he had started paying attention to Betty Cooper, because girls weren't generally on his radar. But he thought it would be safe to assume it had happened the second he had laid eyes on her, that first day of school, when he’d seen her come out of her mother’s car in a pink dress and the same tight ponytail she always wore her hair in.

It wasn't a conscious decision on his part to always be so attuned to Betty’s presence, just as a sunflower can’t help but follow the movements of the sun.

It was an apt comparison given her current attire, yellow on yellow on white, and the fact that her whole demeanor seemed to brighten following his meager attempt at a joke.

“Thanks, Jug. I really like your hair by the way, I don't think I've ever seen it like that. It curls a little behind your ears. Like a palmier.” He didn't know what a palmier was but he hoped that it wasn't something gross.

“Yeah I... I’ve always had it.” he mumbled. He absolutely refused to blush. He knew it was involuntary, but he gave his body strict orders not to do it.

Betty giggled. “Well, I think it suits you. Can we walk to class together?”

Jughead glances at the clock on the wall and realized that lunch period was almost over. He nodded, and Betty seemed pleased.

Jughead wanted to keep the conversation going, even though he had barely said a word so far. He looked over at Betty and noticed her holding a book. He recognized it as her pick for silent reading, his favorite classroom activity (for obvious reasons). He decided that this was as safe a subject as any, and that even he couldn't mess it up.

“Are you enjoying that?” he pointed to the book.

“Oh... sure. It’s fine.” Jughead frowned. That wasn't the kind of glowing endorsement he was expecting.

“Just fine?”

Betty’s forehead scrunched up. She seemed to be trying to find the right words. “Well, my mother picked it for me. It’s a great book, but maybe a little... maybe a little boring?” She looked pained at the admission, like it was something terribly offensive to say. Jughead decided he didn't like to see her struggle at all.

“Have you ever heard of “Princeless: Save Yourself”? My friend Toni has been reading it. It reminded me of you.” Betty looked surprised, green eyes wide, waiting for him to elaborate.

“It’s about this princess, Adrienne. She decides that she doesn't want to wait around for a Prince to rescue her and goes on lots of adventures with her guardian dragon.”

This was stupid. Why did he bring it up? Betty would never be interesting in something as silly as dragons. And it was a graphic novel, no less. Jughead wanted the floor to swallow him up.

“I mean, I... it’s probably not that great. Dragons... just, -just forget it.”

“No Juggie, that sounds like so much fun!” She had stopped walking and was positively beaming at him. He felt a soothing wave of relief wash over him.

“I’ll see if they have it in the library. Maybe Ms. Fletcher will let me switch.”

Jughead felt giddy, which in turn made him feel silly. What was it about Betty Cooper? How could someone be this naturally warm and shiny? It was weird. He was the total opposite of her and yet he couldn't resist the magnetic pull.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, side by side. Jughead, introspective as always, trying to wrap his mind around the enigma that was Betty Cooper. And Betty, happy with the knowledge that Jughead Jones was finally her friend.

 

 

 

MIDDLE SCHOOL

Jughead let his beanie fall into a big, muddy puddle at his feet. He regretted it as soon as he felt heavy rain drops soak his hair and drip down his neck, all the way under his drenched shirt and Sherpa jacket.

For a second, he considered retrieving it, but scraped the thought as quickly as it had come. His mother had left, and she wasn't coming back. He didn't need his stupid had; the stupid hat she had given him when he was a stupid four year old and that he had worn for ten stupid years.

She had left, taking his sister, the car and the coffee machine, and leaving behind his dad, the dog and him. He supposed the coffee machine ranked higher on her list of priorities.

What did he need the hat for? Every thread was a lie. She loved him? A lie. He mattered? A lie. They were a big, happy family? Please.

He looked around at the empty park and saw little through the heavy sheets of rain barreling down from the sky. Weather fit for his miserable mood.

He had no desire to go home to an empty trailer. He also couldn't possible get any wetter than he already was, so he sat himself down unceremoniously on the wet ground, his once faded blue jeans now dark with water and mud. He let his head drop between his knees, hands crossed behind in neck in a sort of fetal position that successfully blocked out the outside world but did nothing to stop his heart from pumping ugly rage and anguish into his veins.

The rain was so loud that he didn't notice somebody approach until a pair of keds walked into his field of vision. Once white, the shoes were now a murky shade of brown, which only served to upset him further.

No part of Betty Cooper, whom the shoes belonged to, had any business being anything less than pristine, and the elements should be well aware of that. Damn this weather, and the mud, and most all his mother.

Betty lowered herself to the ground next to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. He raised his gaze to hers, expecting to find pity and sympathy in the eyes of his best friend. Those wide, green eyes, always so eager, so bright, so curious.

Today, they were a little dimmer. None of the usual sparkle, the joy and mischief only he and their friend Archie were privy to.

She had always been very expressive. She didn't need words to convey what she was feeling - although she never lacked those, either. Jughead often called her an open book and he could admit to himself that he was immensely proud that he knew every chapter by heart.

“Jug... are you okay?” Her voice was so soft, it barely carried over the rain. But he heard her, and so he shook his head.

There was no point in lying to her. She saw right through him, always. And besides, he was out in the pouring rain, sat on his ass, in the mud. He realized he looked like the personification of teenage angst.

“She left, Betts. Last night, she packed her shit and just - left. I knew things were hard between my parents but I never thought she’d just...” he didn't want to voice the rest of the thought. That he had never thought she'd leave his father and not take him, her son, along with her. But he knew that Betty knew anyway, because she was Betty and because she looked a little angry now, too.

“Juggie, I'm so sorry. She can't be right in the head. No one in their right mind would leave you behind.”

She said it with the kind of fervor that left no room for doubt, and even though Jug couldn't totally believe the words, he appreciated the sentiment. And he appreciated her being there most of all.

“I don't know what to do.” It was almost too raw to say, but there were tears on his face now, mixed in with the rain, and he felt much younger than his fourteen years old.

He felt four again, sitting on those steps outside the trailer, thinking that he had been replaced and was no longer loved best by anyone.

“You’re coming with me to my house. My mom’s not there and we can dry your clothes.”

He wanted to argue, maybe, but he honestly didn't have the strength to do it. So he got up and uselessly tried to wipe some of the mud off his ass. He didn't even spare a second glass to the crown beanie he left behind.

At Betty’s house, Jughead tried to take most of his clothes off by the front door so as not to track mud and water through Alice Cooper’s Architectural Digest home.

He handed the soaked pile to a waiting Betty and shot her his most genuine attempt at a smile.

He needed her to know how grateful he was that she was here, still here, with him. With the way his life was going, there was no way of knowing how long that would last and he'd rather not take it for granted.

Betty had thankfully handed him a fluffy towel so he wasn't left naked and shivering his balls off. He padded softly into the kitchen and sat down at the head of the table.

A few minutes later, Betty walked up to him carrying two steaming mugs of hot cocoa and balancing a plate of cookies on top.

“I made these yesterday for Polly's study group. I meant to bring you leftovers but then Archie said...”

Archie had been with him when he had gotten home and found his dad on the floor, drunk and rambling about his mom. It hadn't been pretty. It had taken a long time until he managed to get his dad to tell him exactly what had happened.

Jughead was about to ask how much Archie had told her when he saw Betty remove something from her back pocket. A familiar crown shaped hat. His stomach turned.

“You should have left it there.” He would not cry. It wasn't worth it.

“Jughead, this hat is yours. It's not hers. You’ve worn it for years. It's your superhero cape, remember?” There's a slight teasing tone to her voice, but Jughead knows she would never mock him.

Not about this. Or anything, really. It's just not who Betty Cooper is.

“Juggie... I don't understand why she did it. I'm so, so angry. You don't deserve this.”

Suddenly, Betty is all he feels, and smells, and sees, because she is wrapped around him like a vice, arms right around his neck.

She lets go after a while and her eyes roam every inch of his face. What she's looking for, he doesn't know. But he tries to remain open, because if anybody deserves unreserved honesty, it's her.

“Please don't give up this part of yourself just because it reminds you of her. Don't give up any part of you, ever. Okay?”

He nods, because no matter how much he's hurting, he knows she's right, and he's not ready to admit it, but he thinks maybe someday he will.

 

 

 

HIGH SCHOOL

 

They were in Betty’s room, side by side on her queen sized bed, sharing a pair of earphones that weren’t playing anything because Jughead couldn't decide on a song. He needed to get the mood right.

The overwhelmingly pastel decor of Betty’s room had made him feel like he was inside a cupcake when he first visited, but time and familiarity had helped him grow used to it.

Not the doll collection though. Those, he would always be very firmly against, and he still maintained that they were somehow sentient and spying on them, a theory Betty refused to entertain because she actually had to sleep there every night.

She usually just laughed at him.

There was no laughter now, except for the nervous kind.

They were all alone in the house, Betty’s sister and parents away visiting relatives, which Betty had begged off with the excuse that she had finals to prepare for.

It was a lie.

Another one in a long series of tiny lies related to her boyfriend, Jughead Jones - sorry mom, I have a group project to finish at the library, I'll be home before dinner!; and - no mom, Jughead won't be there, it's just us girls having a sleepover at Veronica’s; and then - yes mom, I promise I'll be cramming all night. Jughead will absolutely not be coming over to help me study for our favorite class, human anatomy.

She hadn't said that, of course.

She had told Jughead though, as a joke, and he had smirked and offered to make flash cards of his favorite bits and parts.

As a joke.

She snorted. None of them had a future in comedy, that was for sure.

They had decided that tonight would be the night that they'd lose their virginity. Betty was a planner and Jughead was a worrier, so leaving it to chance and spontaneity had never really been an option, especially if you had a mother like Alice Cooper who micromanaged your every hour.

Betty reached across the space between their bodies and gently pried the phone from Jughead’s softly trembling fingers. She knew this was a big deal for both of them.

She trusted him completely and knew that no matter what, it would be special and precious - because it was him. They just needed not to overthink it and get out their own heads.

She picked a song at random and sat up on her bed, pulling her hair free from her ponytail and shaking it loose. She took a deep, steadying breath, made eye contact with Jughead and saw resolve settle on his face.

His hand reached up to touch her cheek and gently, so gently, guide her lips to his. It was a tentative kiss, a question, an assurance, but mostly a show of love. Always, of love.

Betty was mostly on top of him and Jughead let his hands wander the expanse of her back, and her waist, and her arms, before doubling back and exploring further down, cupping her ass. Betty smiled against his lips and felt his eyelashes brush hers and he opened his eyes, drinking her in.

That face, always so animated, even now when her eyes were closed, the most delectable look of lust gracing her features.

He had always said that she was an open book, and he was nothing if not a voracious reader.

There was awkward fumbling and head bumps and nervous giggling but at the end, it was a moment both of them would remember and treasure forever, because it was them, stripped back, figuratively and literally, baring their souls to each other and asking the other to love them completely.

And there was only one, very obvious answer.

Later, when they were both spent and giddy and sweaty and there was nothing but lovelovelove pumping in their chests, Jughead extended his arm out to pick up his worn, soft beanie from the ground and gently placed it on Betty’s messy hair.

“There. You should keep it. Precious cargo like this needs an extra bit of protection” and Betty rolled her eyes and laughed, but her heart soared and her eyes teared up, because experience had taught her that Jughead was at his most corny when he was truly happy.

 

 

 

ADULTHOOD

 

Life’s not always rainbows and flowers and then suddenly doom and gloom. It's a lot of in-betweens, a lot of boring moments and regular days when you're not wondrously happy or hopelessly sad.

You grow up and you learn to enjoy the big moments when they come, but you also learn to appreciate the slower times.

Like when you're hanging out with your college roommate, discussing pretentious existentialist theories like you hold all the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

Your graduation, your parents in the crowd, clapping louder than anyone else, eyes full of tears.

The time immediately after, when you’re waiting to hear back from the job you applied to on a whim but you know you could be so, so good at.

And then moving into your first apartment with the person you love most in the world, shopping for cheap furniture that will take you a frustratingly long time to put together.

Having hard, fast shower sex - followed by slow, lazy morning sex.

And realizing that the life you planned for all those years ago, the life you had always thought would begin at some random time in the future? You're living it.

And life is also about the huge, absolutely world-shattering, gravity-defying moments.

Like the birth of your child. A perfect, tiny thing wrapped in a fuzzy, blue blanket.

Jughead looks down at his son, sleeping peacefully in his cot and feels the most overwhelming wave of emotion spread through his chest, all the way down to his fingers and toes.

So this is what it feels like having a pat of your heart beating and living outside your chest, he thinks.

He hears Betty coming into the room and not two seconds later feels her hands wrap around his stomach, hugging him from behind.

“Couldn't sleep?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

“I get nervous thinking that he might need something. It's stupid, I know. My anxieties have anxieties.”

He's self-deprecating to a fault, but he knows she can relate. Most new parents probably can, he supposes.

Betty kisses him right between the shoulder blades and leaves the room as quietly as she came in.

Moments later, she returns holding something in her hands. The room is mostly dark, so he can't immediately make it out.

“I got him something. I figured yours is a little big... for now.”

Betty hands it over to him and the first thing he notices is how soft it feels. He looks closer, noticing it's hardly bigger than his palm.

Suddenly, he realizes what it is and his eyes fly to his wife’s, a smile so soft and gentle spreading across his face.

“It’s...?” Betty, a little misty eyed, allows herself to let out tiny little giggle.

“It's a crown beanie, Juggie. So that I know both my boys are safe.”

And life? Life is but a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m honestly so so sorry for this self-indulgent fluff fest but it just wouldn’t. leave. me. alone. 
> 
> Baby!Bughead gives me many feels, and I am able to resist approximately zero% of them. I hope it was at least mildly entertaining?  
> Sequel/companion piece now posted!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr @ pennyroads, we can cry about the hiatus together x


End file.
